


So Emotional

by DisasterSoundtrack



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 12:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterSoundtrack/pseuds/DisasterSoundtrack
Summary: Her name is Shea Couleé and she came to slay, but right now she is sitting on an upturned bucket, crying, wondering how the hell she ended up here.





	So Emotional

Shea is going to feel it all later.

Right now, it’s all just a mess and a jumble of conflicting feelings, and for some reason the one her mind decides to stick to is the ghost of a touch of Sasha’s hand in hers as they walked out onstage together.

As they walked out there for Shea to be murdered.

The thought triggers a single tear to roll down her face, but she doesn’t care anymore as she walks backstage and tries to take a deep breath despite the corset making it an impossible feat. She rakes her fingers through her short wig, disturbing it, blinking through the bitter taste of failure. That doesn’t matter. Nobody else is going to look at her today; she isn’t going back onstage because she just lost.

She lost a lipsync to Sasha fair and square, and she still can’t believe a single thing that happened tonight.

The crew keeps fumbling around backstage, pushing through and running in all the possible directions and no one really pays Shea half a mind since she is done, over with, and she just wants her mom, her boyfriend, her phone or a bathroom or for all of this to end so she could go to sleep. She doesn’t know where the bathroom is, but she makes it to a quieter area somewhere behind the mess of endless wires and sound equipment, sits down on an upturned plastic bucket and tries to calm down her pounding heart.

With a head in her hands, elbows rested on her thighs, she lets a couple more tears go. She didn’t even see Sasha’s gimmick with the roses until they started sticking to the shoulders of Shea’s jumpsuit.

Sasha deserves it. But still, Shea didn’t want to go like that. She was Chicago’s sweetheart, so much hype surrounding her, so much support and success that she was unofficially crowned sometime around episode three. And now she’s sitting here, hiding, a loser of a lipsync in a shocking twist she would have never never come up with herself.

She disappointed everybody, and she’s gonna have to live with it forever. But she’ll have time to dwell on this later.

_A fucking Whitney Houston song? Jesus Christ._

“Y’all wanted a twist, eh?” She mumbles to herself, almost laughing, as she gets up and dabs the tears with the back of her hand. It comes back covered in mascara. Well there goes Shea’s make-up.

She makes her way to the dressing room, knowing it will be empty or at least nearly empty, and thinks of Sasha, probably preparing for her final lipsync now. Sasha must be able to taste the crown right now… Peppermint is a lipsync assassin no doubt, but they won’t crown her with her not-so-impressive track record, right?

Maybe they will. Shea doesn’t know fucking anything anymore.

The dressing room door opens with a creak, announcing Shea’s arrival to the only person that’s currently there. Sasha, a statuesque vision in a modern white gown, shoulder spikes and all that jazz, lets go of a brush she was holding and looks at Shea with a mixture of all the emotions in the world.

“Shea… Shea, I’m-”

_Sorry? Happy that I won, but sad that you lost? Unsure whether we can be as close as we were until now?_

Sasha ends up not saying anything at all, because Shea walks up to her and wraps her in a hug, careful of the immaculate white gown Sasha is wearing. “I’m so proud of you. So proud.”

“Bitch, don’t make me cry now,” Sasha replies, her voice rich with tears. She ends the hug and grabs Shea by the hands, just holding them in the emptiness of the dressing room that smells of hairspray and powder. “Besides, I didn’t win the crown yet.”

_Well, but you beat me_ , Shea almost says, but she shuts up.

The conflicting emotions inside of Shea are bubbling up to the surface again, actual warmth and pride taking over. Sasha deserves every second of this. Sasha is a fighter, an icon, a blessing, she is walking breathing art and a Drag Race crown is not enough of a testament to her. It is so evident to Shea as they are standing in front of each other, a genuine, yet teary smile decorating Sasha’s beautiful face. Somehow, Shea has to tell her all about it, tell her that she never ever wants to lose her; but how can she? She remembers saying a lot onstage while they waited for the verdict, words of praise and love and encouragement, but that is an emotional blur for both of them, random flashes of memories that will never form into anything coherent.

Finally, Shea swallows through the stress (why are her hands shaky again?), clears her throat and speaks.

“You’re going to do so many great things, baby.”

Only after the words come out of her mouth does Shea realize she really means it. There is so much love surrounding them. They are so lucky to be given this opportunity, so blessed to have made it this far and have each other, among other people, to go through it together. The loss is still bitter and stings, but Sasha’s smile is so perfect and Shea can almost see a halo surrounding her very bald head.

Sasha grins, leaning in and fixing Shea’s short wig. She presses her lips against Shea’s, softly at first, then with more urgency as Shea melts into the touch, craving more contact, wrapping an arm around Sasha’s waist and opening her mouth, a passing breath until Shea comes to her senses and pulls away before she smears Sasha’s lipstick too much.

“I know,” Sasha whispers, squeezing Shea’s hand. “We’ll  _both_  do great things.”

**Author's Note:**

> Drop me a line at samrull.tumblr.com


End file.
